Why do we remain unmoving and unbothered?
Falling down the same driveway,
a rose petal felt between your index finger and thumb.
The will to survive is stronger than gravity.
Maybe there is not just one memory or story
pitched by the throng.
Fragments of restless actions,
now dancing not in waltz, but in feverish ecstasy.
Hate me from my skin to my hair.
It is time to pile it into something beautiful.
This is a piece of found poetry. Each line comes from a piece written by another member of the 2024 collaborative.